Whispers at Moonrise

pack.
    *   *   *
    Kylie woke up the next morning around 4 AM . The room was cold, so she knew someone else was here, but they never manifested, which was just rude—like playing Peeping Tom. Sitting up, she whispered, “Hannah, is that you?”
    No one answered, but the cold somehow felt different.
    A shiver ran down Kylie’s spine. She pulled the blanket up around her shoulders and sat there, breathing in the cold air. Was this one of the girls buried with Hannah, or was this someone new? It felt new—unfamiliar. Had someone from the graveyard followed her back? As always, when a new spirit appeared, Kylie pretty much went back to feeling anti-ghost.
    Kylie listened to her clock mark off two minutes before the cold faded. Socks moved from under the bed and leapt up onto the mattress and curled up into a tight little knot on her lap. “You’re a little anti-ghost, too, aren’t you?”
    The kitten let out a muffled meow that seemed to say, Hell, yes.
    Kylie pulled Socks closer and then settled back into the pillows, half hoping to fall back asleep, half trying to dreamscape again. No such luck.
    Her mind ran from seeing her mom, stepdad, and mom’s new boyfriend to Hannah and the trip to the café she’d be making in a few hours. Would they learn who Cara M. was? Would that help them figure out who killed them?
    Sitting there, Kylie recalled how Hannah had gone all weird on her when the new teachers had walked into the dining hall yesterday. Did that mean anything? “Hannah, if you can come for a chat, I’d appreciate it. And your sister wants to talk to you and so does Burnett. You’re a very popular ghost.”
    The room remained silent and warm. Realizing if she stayed in bed she’d just let herself get caught up in angst, she tossed back the covers and got up.
    Maybe Holiday was already at the office. And hopefully, Della wouldn’t bite her head off for wanting to head out early. She’d have to call Derek and let him know she was already at the office.
    *   *   *
    It was still pitch-dark when Kylie and Della stepped out of the cabin. The temperature was down and there was a fall-like feeling in the black morning air. Della hadn’t bitten her head off when she told her she wanted to go see if Holiday was at the office, not literally anyway. But Kylie could tell she wanted to.
    No doubt, playing shadow was finally getting to Della. Kylie didn’t blame the vamp. Maybe it was time Kylie talked with Burnett about putting a stop to it. Mario hadn’t been around in a while. She sensed Mario had backed off and even Miranda said she didn’t feel a thing. Kylie could only hope he’d gone forever.
    “Too damn early,” Della muttered.
    “If you don’t want to go, I’ll be fine.”
    Della kept walking, but not bitching. “I guess it proves it,” Della hissed.
    “Proves what?” Kylie asked.
    “That you’re really not a vampire. I mean, we sleep the best during the AM .”
    “I told you I wasn’t all vampire. I…” Kylie went silent when she heard the footfalls coming down the path. Della’s eyes widened at the same time, then motioned for them to move into the edge of the woods. They hid behind a bush, waited, and watched—watched as a dark figure moved down the trail.
    He wore a dark sweater, one with a hood that partially concealed his face. Kylie didn’t recognize his shape or his gait. If it was one of the regular campers, she would have, wouldn’t she?
    Della sniffed the air. “I don’t recognize his scent,” she whispered.
    “What’s the plan?” Kylie asked.
    “This?” Della leapt out of the woods, canines showing, eyes a bright green, and landed with a thud in front of the stranger.

 
    Chapter Twenty-seven
    Kylie, taken by surprise by Della’s aggressive move, stood there a second before she realized Della could be in danger. With the vamp a few feet in front of the man, Kylie bolted out of the woods and stopped about three feet behind him.
    Della took a defensive step toward the man. He jumped back and slammed right into Kylie. He swung around, a growl escaping his lips, but the hood still obscured his face and prevented Kylie from knowing who and what she was up against.
    “Who are you?” Kylie asked. Feeling the sizzle of protective power, she went to yank off the hood from his head.
    He ducked and moved a few feet backward—closer to Della. “Stop this!” he demanded.
    “You stop,” Della ordered.
    He pulled off the hood of his sweater. “Is this the